


Still of the Night

by propangel



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Phrack Fucking Friday, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 21:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propangel/pseuds/propangel
Summary: She's never been a cuddler, but this is Jack. He has always drawn her in, shifted her thinking.





	Still of the Night

  


It must be the quiet that wakes Phryne, as the storm outside has long passed. Jack is beside her. She takes a moment to harbor that—Jack is beside her in the night.

His steady breath is the only sound; it whispers across her skin. She is tucked in next to him, curled into him, really. She's never been a cuddler, but this is Jack. He has always drawn her in, shifted her thinking. Why should the way she used to prefer to sleep be any different?

Her hands skim his chest. His skin is soft, his heartbeat strong underneath. So much solid strength inside this man.

She can tell by the way his breathing changes that her ministrations must have roused him. His whole body seems to come alive at her touch. She places an open mouth kiss on his chest.

"Phryne," he murmurs, only halfway awake. She's a little disappointed that he broke the silence, but only for a second because his hands are on her now and she's quickly learning that all rational thought leaves her at his touch.

She hums when his hands cup her small breasts. "Yes," she sighs, not knowing exactly what she's agreeing to. She wants it all.

His nose nudges her ear, a silly thing, but she likes it. "I probably should have fed you first."

She's also not surprised to learn that Jack's bedroom talk isn't like most of the men she has known. "I'm not hungry."

"Not that, but…" His lips brush the edge of her ear. "I should have bought you dinner, or something."

Ever the gentleman. She should have known her noble Jack would be this way. Kick himself for not doing things in the “proper” way. Not because it matters to him, but for her. Because he wants it right for her.

"It's fine, Jack." She hopes that she sounds reassuring. "I don't need anything."

Just you.

She nudges him to roll onto his back and she crawls over him, settling herself on his thighs. Close, but not quite close enough.

"Remind me again… This isn't a dream, right?" he asks.

She smiles at that, leaning forward to kiss his lips, proving to him how real this is. Real, honest, true. She wants to be those things for him, to him. Because of him, she believes that can be. How had she not seen that before now?

"Real," she says against his lips. She's draped over him, his new blanket to replace the one that has slipped down and away. "I'm really here. And I'm sorry it took so long."

"You’re here now.” His hands travel down her sides, settling against her hips. "That's all that matters."

They were frantic before. Their first time. Keeping pace with the storm outside, rising in a short bolt of lightning and falling, tumbling in the thunder that followed. She's nearly undone again by the memory.

Somehow she knows this time will be different. Not that they've worked the frantic out of their systems quite yet. It will surely be there for a while to come. This time it’s about what they are in the quiet moments. When there aren't distractions.

"Not a dream?" he asks again. "If I'm dreaming I don't want to wake up."

Teasing her is only going to turn her on more. Not that she'd ever admit it.

"Jack," she smirks. "No more talking."

He chuckles as he reaches up to brush her cheek. They move together, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the room. The quickening breaths, the gasps, the sighs.

This is right. So very right that she wants to curse herself. For waiting. For thinking she didn't deserve this, at least not yet. For not trusting. For denying him. For hurting him. It wasn't right, and she wants to beg forgiveness. But maybe that's exactly what she's doing right now.

She rises over him, taking the length of him deep inside. God yes! This is what she never wants to stop doing. Never stop asking him to forgive her for her sins and to love her despite them.

Lifting herself off him, she plunges back down as if she can force him deeper into her body. He does his best to fulfill her wish, driving upwards as he grasps her hips firmly, his need matching hers in appetite.

They rise and fall, and rise and fall again.

"Phryne," he whispers, granting her absolution. And she falls one last time, both of them finding release together.

She feels warm and boneless laying over him. His arms circle her, holding tight. It's as if he doesn't want her drifting away from him, or that there's no way she could ever be close enough. Or it could be a bit of both.

It's quiet again. The storm has passed and the night is still. And they have only begun to dream.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to oracleofdoom for beta'ing and being a fresh set of eyes for me.


End file.
